cat named pig

Just a couple Princess and Dragon pictures — check back for more soon! (Also to be uploaded to Flickr sometime before Christmas).

Did you come here looking for a story about Siena getting into trouble with art supplies, or perhaps another delightful anecdote about the cat throwing up? Sorry, not today. Like the rest of the country, I have a bad case of Election Brain. So maybe writing down a few thoughts will help me stop obsessing. Or at least give me something to do in between checking for updates on the Coleman/Franken race. 

Feel free to weigh in with a comment or send me an e-mail (catnamedpig@gmail.com or my other one if you have it) with your thoughts on the following – I would love to hear what others think:

1. On talking about politics with kids: Matt and I never really discussed a game plan for how we wanted to handle this. (For some reason, I expect every parenting decision to be made in a researched and well-thought-out manner long before it becomes an issue. Real life continues to mock this goal of mine.) Our approach just kind of happened, but I think it’s been a pretty good one. 

Some parents believe it is their job to teach their children their own political values. They see political beliefs as an extension of their moral values, and teaching their kids to support a certain party is no different than teaching their kids not to hit or litter. Others believe it is wrong to tell kids what to think or believe, instead giving them the facts and leaving them room to make up their own minds. 

As for us? We went for a kind of middle ground. I agree, in part, with both of the viewpoints above. I do think we have a moral obligation to make certain decisions as a country. My political beliefs are very much rooted in my values, the same values I try to teach my kids, about helping others, being fair, not discriminating, taking care of our planet and our community, etc. But I want to raise thinkers, not robots. Not even liberal, tree-hugging, injustice-fighting robots. I want them to look at the world and make up their own minds about what will improve it. (Cupcakes for everyone! More green buses!) 

So I’ve tried (and I’ve noticed Matt doing this too) to avoid words like “bad” or “good,” “right” or “wrong.” I’ve said “I think,” or “Daddy and I believe” a lot. For now, that’s enough to put her solidly in the Obama camp (which I will choose to take as a compliment – she actually respects our opinions!). But one day, I think it will be an important distinction – I believe one thing, and she is free to agree or disagree with what I believe.  

I’ve been very open with Siena about who we supported and why, but I’ve also tried to emphasize that different people have different ideas about what will be the best for our country. And that we are lucky to have a choice, lucky to have the option to vote for the person whose ideas are closest to our own. 

If you have kids, how do you/have you handle(d) the talking about politics? If you don’t have kids, how would you handle it? 

2. On our new reality: Our country has finally elected an African-American president, in an election that also featured female candidates for the highest and second-highest offices in the land. I am proud of that fact, and thrilled that this historic election is the first one Siena will remember. It seems like our country is moving closer to where I think it should’ve been all along. Yet I am saddened that, in this same election, Americans voted to continue discrimination. I am disappointed in the voters (in Blue-state California! Come on, guys!) who supported Proposition Eight. I am disappointed that so many Americans still want to deny freedom to other Americans, specifically the freedom to choose a partner and make a lifelong commitment. 

I have a lot more to say on this subject, but the love of my life just came into the room. (Since he happens to be of the opposite sex, we were easily and legally able to marry seven years ago.) He told me he just weighed in, and when I read what he wrote, my eyes filled with tears. He is my rock, my support, my partner in every sense. If you can find someone to fall in love with, you’re lucky. If you find someone who loves you as much as you love him, you’re incredibly lucky. And if you find someone who’s willing to spend every day of the rest of his life with you, seeing you at your best and at your absolute worst, loving you no matter what and helping you grow into the person you want to be? That, and I gratefully speak from experience, is the luckiest of all. Finding such a person should be the hard part, for everybody. Legally marrying that person should not be.

Now go read what Matt wrote, and then tell us what you think.   

[November 4th, 2008. 10:07 p.m.]

This is truly a night I will never forget. Tonight, Siena went from totally wound up to sound asleep in a matter of minutes. This has never happened before. Matt tucked her in before leaving for our friends’ election party, and instead of wanting me to re-tuck her in several times, or being sad about him leaving, she just went right to sleep. History was made, people. 

Oh, and something else happened.

Obviously, that’s just a lame attempt at humor before I hit you with the schmoopiness. I feel like I’m home alone on New Year’s Eve right now. Matt just called from the party for a brief celebratory conversation that was repeatedly punctuated by people shouting in the background. By the time we got off the phone I was ready to throw confetti and kiss the cat. (I settled for eating one-third of a pan of Halloween brownies and trying not to step on the cat as I walked through the kitchen.)

When Siena went to bed tonight, she knew that Barack Obama had won the state of Minnesota. We heard this on MPR on the way home from her music class. She couldn’t wait to relay this news to Matt, repeating it several times on the way into the house: “Barack Obama won MINNESOTA!” And then: “Barack Obama is going to be the next PRESIDENT of MINNESOTA!” 

I am so excited to be able to tell her when she wakes up in the morning that Barack Obama is going to be the next president of Minnesota, and of all the other states.

I feel optimistic about the next four years. And if tonight’s bedtime is anything to go by, change can happen.  

I had to Google the syllable count, since I couldn’t remember from junior high English. It’s 5-7-5. Feel free to write your own haiku in the comments.

Scritch scratch scritch scuttle

Something’s in the wall again

Die, Sonofabitch 

I also had to reverse catnamedpig.com’s longstanding No Swearing Policy, in order for my haiku to fully express the sentiment this creature inspires.  

In my head: It’s a lovely fall day; we’ll walk home from school. The kids will love crunching through the leaves.  

In reality: It’s a lovely fall day, and the kids go absolutely nuts for the crunchy leaves. Siena lifts big armfuls and then scientifically waits to feel the wind blowing before letting them go. Elliot’s technique is less precise: he grabs as many leaves as he can hold and lets them go immediately, screaming “EEEEE!” each time. It takes us fifteen minutes to cover one block. I think to myself, in all seriousness, that this, right here, this is why people have kids. Too happy to form any more actual thoughts, my inner monologue becomes a series of cliches. I feel young again, I see the world through their eyes, I delight with them in the colorful leaves crunching underfoot and blowing in the wind. I consider applying for jobs at Hallmark, but then I remember that they already make cards with most of these sentiments. Hmm. Maybe I should send “Happy Fall” cards to friends and family. 

Also in reality: We’re half a block from home when Siena’s foot starts hurting. Or itching. Or something. Something so terrible and life-threatening and agonizing that she can no longer walk. She literally starts crawling on the ground.

When I examine her foot, there is no sign of anything wrong with it. Her descriptions fail to paint a clear picture. Does it hurt? Or itch? How can you not be sure? 

I suggest she lean on my arm while we walk the last little way. She does so, complaining at the top of her lungs. “My FOOT!” OW! MY FOOT!” At the risk of sounding heartless, it was pretty obnoxious. (Wow. That does sound heartless. You’re probably picturing a dry, shriveled Craisin where my heart should be, but hold off on your judgment until I tell you that she did not mention her foot malady one single time from the minute we arrived home until she went to bed for the night. Not once. It was miraculously healed through the power of having something more interesting to think about. She played actively, threw several angry stomping fits over such indignities as having to wash her hands, before making brownies for crying out loud, and ruthlessly negotiated the terms of her dinner. And dessert. All in all, a totally normal evening for her. With no further sign of podiatric distress.)  

My point? I’m not sure, except that my goal here is to record the reality of our lives, not the edited, airbrushed, carefully cultivated “happy memories” only. Ten years from now, the image of her theatric moaning disrupting a blissful autumn scene will make me smile more than a sentimental description of a perfect afternoon possibly could. Because it’s so Siena, and my impatience is so me, and Elliot just tagging along contently, throwing leaves and occasionally looking over at his dramatic sister with a quizzical expression is so Elliot.

We’re who we are. And it was a beautiful fall day.   

Did you wonder about the Internet Silence from catnamedpig.com lately? Perhaps nothing interesting has been happening? Or perhaps after being duped and deceived by my daughter and her BFF (see previous post) I decided to just give up on documenting my various parenting mishaps for a while? No, none of that. Just a whirlwind, action-packed weekend trip to San Diego. . . . 

More details will be forthcoming, but two article deadlines and a day of air travel with small children have all but sapped my will to type. All but. So here is a brief list of highlights:

1. Air travel with two small children, while not something I’d recommend you try (if you are someone I care about) unless absolutely necessary (like, in order to be OUT of Minnesota for the first snow of the season — SCORE!) was not as horrible as it could have been. Was not horrible at all, in fact. Was more like a routine dental exam than the root-canal-without-anesthesia I had been anticipating. 

2. Four nights of parties, ending with a big Sunday night bash to celebrate my cousin Carla’s marriage to (my cousin-in-law?) Andy — a match made in curly-hair heaven. We are thrilled for them, and can’t wait to see what color of curly hair (for we know it will be curly) their offspring will have.

3. Avocado on everything. I mean, seriously, everything I ate.  

4. Seeing all my relatives on my dad’s side of the family. (Perhaps this one should have come before the one about avocado —  please note, if you are related to me, that this list is not in order of importance.) 

5. The San Diego Zoo.

6. The ocean.

7. The beautiful wedding celebration on the patio of a beautiful hotel overlooking the ocean. We were just a pumpkin’s throw away from the water. (More about that later. [But, if I forget later, I will just say that the party was decorated with many carved pumpkins and one giant monster pumpkin, and the beer and wine flowed freely all evening, and well, you can probably piece it together. Big Juanita Pumpkin and several of her smaller friends now sleep with the fishes.] I personally had nothing to do with this.) 

8. Seeing Tio Matt (my brother). Seeing Siena with her Tio — she absolutely adores him and was heartbroken when we had to say goodbye. We need more Tio. 

9.  Seeing our good college buddy Jamarr, who also drove down from LA on Saturday.

10. So. Many. Burritos. (With avocado.) 

That will have to do for now. Mostly, I am just filled with happiness from seeing so many loved ones at such a joyous event. Also, Siena even napped on the way home. Amazing. 

Siena and her No. One Partner in Crime, Avery, really pulled one over on us last night. Usually preschooler “tricks” are about as transparent as, well, I was going to say windows, but the ones around here are filthy, practically opaque, so not windows. Saran wrap? Anyway, when Siena has tried to trick me in the past, I’ve usually seen it coming a mile away. No problem. 

Which is why Sara and I were somewhat surprised last night by the sophisticated ruse they employed to get us out of the kitchen so they could drag a chair in and climb up to reach the candy jar on the counter.  

“There’s a show in the basement. . . right now! It’s only for girls, well I guess you can bring your little boy.” It started something like this, nothing out of the ordinary as we are invited to view “shows” of all kinds on a regular basis. Then it got more interesting. . . .”

Actually, the show isn’t happening but the toy museum is down there. You need to go watch the toy museum.”

Huh? I still don’t know. Thinking the toy museum might be some new variation on show (art installation, perhaps?) we grabbed Elliot and headed downstairs. When we got down there, we were puzzled to find nothing really resembling a show, or display of toys, or anything other than the usual mess. But Sara and I were discussing something really important, like why our husbands always leave the kitchen a smoldering wreck of a mess every time they cook, or maybe haircuts, so we didn’t really think much of the non-show, non-toy-museum.

Until I heard the sound of something heavy being dragged into the kitchen upstairs. Something heavy, like a chair. Then I understood. There was no show. No toy museum. Just a plot to get us out of the way so they could raid the candy jar.Sure enough, as we came upstairs Siena ran shrieking from the kitchen and Avery quickly hopped down from the chair clutching a handful of brightly wrapped something or other. We cornered her and she reluctantly handed over a fistful of chocolates. (Siena didn’t have anything; apparently she had been on lookout duty. And she revealed herself to be the kind of lookout who abandons her fellow criminal and runs for cover the minute the heat starts coming around the corner.) 

All I know is, they’ll have to come up with something better than that flimsy “toy museum” story next time they want to get us away from the candy. Unfortunately, I’m sure they will.  

[The following took place on our recent trip to Madison, Saturday night]:

Me: Sitting on the hotel bed, reading my homework for writing class: heartbreaking, gut-wrenching tales of motherhood and baby-loss and children’s hospitals. And then, because I’m already soaked in tears, going online to sweetsalty.com for more heartbreak and gut-wrench but also more beautiful prose. Reaching over to the empty pizza box next to the bed and rummaging around for the last silverware and napkin packet. Awkwardly ripping open the plastic wrapping with one hand while wiping my eyes and nose with the other hand, trying not to sniffle too loudly because the kids are sleeping in the other half of our two-room suite. . . .

Him: “OH! He fumbled!”

In the car, on the way to music class:

Siena: “Mama, do you know what will be really awesome?

Me [expecting to hear something about dessert, or maybe a game they might play at music tonight]: “What, Sweetie?”

 Siena: “I’m going to have a baby.” 

Ahem. Well. Upon re-reading my last post, it appears I was being something of a Complainy Plainerpants, as we call it around here. It’s just that the bookcase-to-human ratio Chez Catnamedpig has recently gone from a perfectly reasonable 1:1 to something like 17:1 or 89:1 and they’re all in the living room. Which was maybe making me a little crazy. I have since taken a deep breath and gotten over myself. 

Also? We had a wonderful weekend road-trip to Madison. Seriously, I never thought I would type a sentence with the words wonderful and road-trip without a big, fat, sarcastic  –NOT! at the end of it, but here I am, and it’s true. We had a great time. The kids slept in the car, at least long enough for everyone to maintain sanity, and we stayed in a hotel with a pool. Siena got to go swimming three separate times — pretty good for a one-night stay. We also attended a pre-wedding-day gathering at a bike shop, which meant Elliot got to buckle the chin straps on the entire inventory of bike helmets while the rest of us ate cake and chatted. 

On Sunday we joined a large group of scientists and cyclists to celebrate the marriage of “Mama’s silly friend Claire,” as she has been labeled since she visited us last spring, to David. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony followed by a reception with live music and the best wedding food I’ve ever had (seriously, so good) — we didn’t want to leave, but eventually got tired of chasing the kids through the crowded reception hall.

We hopped in the car and headed West, to the soundtrack of Siena’s repeated questions about when she might be a flower girl in a wedding. (Please, if you’re reading this and not yet married, consider having Siena in your wedding. If you’re already married, consider renewing your vows [in a ceremony complete with flower girl]. And even if you have no intention of ever getting hitched, please consider creating a morning ritual in which Siena gets dressed up, comes over to your house and sprinkles flower petals in front of you as you walk to your car.) 

And that, plus more cheese curds than I care to think about, pretty much sums up our weekend. Congratulations, Claire and David!